


Out on the Rough Seas

by Caprikat



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Gay, Intersex, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Not Beta Read, Omega Verse, Pirates, Roleswap, Royalty, Slash, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 14:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21180779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caprikat/pseuds/Caprikat
Summary: Captain Silas thought that the royal ship wreck would have riches, but instead, he finds something much better.





	Out on the Rough Seas

Wind in his hair, hands clutching at the rail, eyes that gleamed slightly in twisted curiosity at the ragged sea—the captain, knew that something fortunate was coming his way. He smirked, and looked up into the sky. The horizon was murky, cumulus clouds forming gradually, sounds of raucous thunder filling the air. The man dutifully lifted the palm of his hand flat, and in that moment, it began pouring.

Rain pelted his clothing, soaking him thoroughly—making the long, v-neck linen shirt to become slightly transparent, and his pants a shade darker. The only thing that was spared from the rain, was his short, ebony mane, which was protected by the tricorn hat.

“Captain,” a voice called out, muffled by the sounds of the storm. The captain stood still; he had heard his Quartermaster addressing him, but he blatantly ignored it. During times like these, where he would find himself eased by the most chaotic occurrences, did he wish not to be disturbed.

“Captain,” he hollered once again, and this time, in a languished manner, the captain turned, and regarded his right–side man. He stared at him, gray orbs, burning into his skin.

A perturbed ‘gulp’ left the Quartermaster’s chapped, quivering lips, and he could not utter anything more than gibberish in that moment. He wanted to tell the captain, that the tempest was exacerbating at a concerning rate—that he, and the rest of the crew should retreat to their quarters—but when those sharp, fierce eyes glared at him, and no words were exchanged, he knew he had made a mistake, and panicked.

The captain gave him a cursory study once more—one so shooting that it felt as if it could slice through him—before returning to static, stoic position. 

The Quartermaster had no idea—no inkling of how this man could withstand a hype of such a violent squall without even being slightly disturbed; but, what he did understand was that he must have seen unimaginable horrors if this looked nothing more like in child’s play in the man's eyes.

In the midst of the fuliginous clouds, and fervent waves, was a tiny outline of another ship—one that was on the brink of total destruction. It was held firmly between spiked rocks. 

“There.” He pointed, a modicum of a grin forming on his face, and then a guttural command escaped his lips. “We go there.”

The Quartermaster was puzzled, and look of utter confusion sat prominently on his face. He had no idea how the captain could see so well in this shit storm. But nevertheless, without a moment to spare, a spyglass was in his hand. 

The view grew tenfold, and his eyes immediately caught sight of the tattered, blue flag. Half of it had been ripped off, but despite this, it was clear enough for him to understand that was the Kingdom of Stadia’s insignia embellishing it. 

A fleeting feeling of eagerness and adrenaline pumped through his veins. 

He turned himself over to his crew, holding on to the railing. The waves were now dangerously high, practically consuming the front deck entirely until they retreated back into the ocean. 

“When this blasted shit fan’s over, were goin’ to be fuckin’ rich you damn, pussies! You hear me? Fuckin' rich, I say!” 

His voice boomed, and in the ears of the crew, their captain seemed louder than the storm itself.

They all stared at him for a moment, a bit fearful of their captain’s eccentric behavior—They’d never seen him this excited about something unless it was him being condescending—yet the twinkling eyes belied otherwise; that this in fact, was genuine joy that came out of the man’s lips. 

They all cheered in response, applauding him, and the captain bowed—somehow gracefully—on the rocking boat. “Now, all of you get and don’t come out till the storm’s over!”

Hastily, they all went to their quarters, thankful for whatever put the Captain in such a accomdatable mood.

Hours had passed, and the captain never let eyes cease from the enemy’s ship. It was a galleon, and twice the size of his own ship. The damage to it was extensive in more important areas, and in others, almost perfect condition. Treasures and riches, that was all his mind could ponder on, and he was certain they were aboard that ship.

The best part of finding the large ship was that they didn’t even need to pillage. Afterall, it’s not stealing if everybody’s dead, right? 

Excitement filled him like an eager child tasting sweets for the first time. His mouth watered at the thought of him and his crew lying on mountains of gold coins and gems. What they could do with—

“Sir Silas,” a muffled voice from behind his cabin door inquired.

The captain grumbled lowly under his breath. “What did I tell you, Oliver about disturbing me while I’m day dreaming?”

“But sir, the skies have cleared, and we’re near the ship.”

Silas used his hands and perched himself, opening the door with a slam. The poor quartermaster seemed petrified by the sudden bang and jumped slightly.

“We’ll Oliver, what in God’s name are we waitin’ for?”

“Nothing, Captain.” The quartermaster smiled, saluting him.

Silas gave a small smile in return, and ran over to the forepeak, with his men crowded behind him. 

“Chancy, turn the sails windward! Our riches be over there, kid. Don't fuck this up!"

"Aye, captain."

_____________

The anchor was set, the planks set up to they could scavenge the place. There was no thought in the captain's mind that there was no treasure on such a beaut of a ship. 

It was artistically lavished with decorations of angels, and mermaids. The details of the expanse large, and well built. Well shit, this ship even had latrines on board! That was luxury, unfortunately, the captain and the crew did not have of theirs. If the ship wasn't so badly damaged, the captain would have taken it for himself.

The crew had opened every nook and cranny, and found nothing but rust, and the taste of the sea.

This put the captain in a very, very, bad mood. He stood stood there, arms crossed, his boot tapping, and a petrifying scowl on his face.

He really needed a smoke right now. Who gave a shit if his lungs turned black, or if he got cancer. There was no damn riches and he wasted his precious time.

"Uh, um, captain?"

All of this for jack shit. Great.

"Sir?"

What a sick, fucking joke. 

"We found--"

Unbelievable.

"Captain, please. We found--!" 

"Damn you, Oliver! What the hell do you want? You got shits for brains? What?" The captain glared at the poor Quartermaster, looking as if he was about to strangle the poor man.

"We-um, we found the prince alive."

A perverse smile slowly formed on the captain's lips. He began cackling, his hand resting on his forehead.

"What a turn of events! Huh, Ollie? Bring the bastard!"

The Quartermaster smiled, scared shitless, and nodded his head in feverent agreement. "Right away, sir!"

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Captain Silas is fucking crazy, but that's the result of a shitty childhood.


End file.
